


A Sherlockian Christmas

by ununpentium



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Sherlock Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-28 00:09:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ununpentium/pseuds/ununpentium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock's first Christmas together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sherlockian Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for http://jamanddogtags.tumblr.com/ as part of the tumblr sherlock secret santa.

It was two weeks until Christmas day and John felt slightly uneasy.  It was his first Christmas with Sherlock, in every sense of the word ‘with’, and he was concerned that the whole thing would be tense and awkward. Neither of them had broached the subject of decorations and so the flat was still in its usual state of semi chaos, though Sherlock would argue that he knew _precisely_ where everything was. Sherlock had never talked about Christmases spent as a child, John mused, and so John had come to the conclusion that this time of year was horribly suffocating for Sherlock.

John was still contemplating this as Sherlock swept into the flat, shaking off his coat and leaving what seemed to be duck feathers all over the floor. John decided he didn’t even want to know what that was about, and simply asked “tea?”

“Yes, thank you John,” Sherlock breezed past John, twirled around once before draping himself across the sofa looking smug. John blinked a few times, wondering if he was hallucinating. Sherlock twirled? Twirled around like a ballet dancer? Someone that tall shouldn’t be that graceful, the bastard, John thought to himself.

“Okay, before I make the tea, what’s got into you? You look like the cat that’s got the cream.”

Sherlock’s brow furrowed slightly, “how do I look like a cat?” before John realised that he would not understand that idiom, and rephrased.

“Why are you so bloody happy? Do I need to call Mycroft so he can retrieve the body? Will this start any wars or other international conflict?”

Sherlock smiled even more.

“I was chasing ducks.”

John tilted his head slightly and smiled.

“Ducks? Why?”

“Christmas!” was all Sherlock responded with, before standing up abruptly and grabbing John by his shoulders.

“Um, yes, it’s Christmas in two weeks, but I th-”

Sherlock cut John off with a long kiss, before pulling back slightly and tracing John’s cheek with his fingertip.

“I was at a farmer’s market earlier choosing a duck for Christmas. I opted for a more hands on approach, obviously. I’ve never cooked duck before, but it’s just chemistry.”

“Never cooked duck before? Sherlock, I don’t think you’ve cooked _anything_ before. You burn the toast! And I thought you hated Christmas?”

Sherlock laughed softly, now tracing circles across the nape of John’s neck.

“I can cook, I just choose not to very often. And I will admit, Christmas rather slipped my mind until this morning,” Sherlock pressed a kiss to the top of John’s head, “but I want it to be special. This is our first Christmas together, after all.”

John was aware he had a rather dopey grin on his face, but he was feeling very happy about the fact that Sherlock did indeed like Christmas, and that they could properly celebrate it together as a couple.

“Go and make tea now,” Sherlock gave a John little shove towards the kitchen and John shook his head as he laughed.

~*~*~*~

Ten days before Christmas and John arrived home from the surgery to find Sherlock balancing precariously on the back of a chair in order to finish putting fairly lights onto the real Christmas tree that had suddenly materialised in their living room.

“Christ, Sherlock, you’ll break your neck!”

Sherlock wobbled slightly, finished hanging the lights and hopped off of the chair before motioning his hands as if to say “ta da!”

“I’ve never seen a real Christmas tree before. We always had a plastic one at home.” John looked up at the magnificent tree in awe. Sherlock bent down to plug in the lights, and John couldn’t help but let out a small gasp at the sight of Sherlock standing in the ethereal light, pale eyes twinkling.

“We can decorate the rest of the flat together, if you’d like?” Sherlock looked hopeful. In way of reply John reached up to press a feather light kiss to Sherlock’s lips.

~*~*~*~

It was 11pm on Christmas eve and Sherlock and John were cuddled up on the sofa with the television on low in the background with only the fairly lights illuminating the room. The tree had gained some silver tinsel, John had strung up some more fairly lights across the mantel piece and Sherlock had placed a santa hat onto the skull. Mistletoe kept inexplicably popping up above John whenever he tried to leave for work and he would be inevitably held up by Sherlock kissing him. Not that he was complaining, though.

“John?”

“Mm?” John replied sleepily, burrowing further into Sherlock’s arms.

“Thank you.”

“Wh’ for?”

Sherlock tightened his arms around John.

“For being with me. For making me cups of tea. For keeping me from the edge when I feel like the world has lost its colour. For making me feel wanted.”

John raised his head so he could look into Sherlock’s eyes.

“You don’t need to thank me for anything, Sherlock. I love you, you beautiful genius.” John pressed a kiss to the corner of Sherlock’s mouth as Sherlock blinked rapidly and sniffed softly.

“We should go to bed. Santa won’t come if we’re awake!”

Sherlock smiled softly and allowed himself to be pulled up from the sofa. John switched off the television and the fairly lights, took Sherlock’s hand in his own and led them both to the bedroom.

~*~*~*~

10am on Christmas morning saw John and Sherlock still asleep and curled up in each other’s arms. Sherlock was lying on his back in the centre of his bed, with John’s head lying softly across his chest and an arm thrown across Sherlock’s stomach. Sherlock blinked slowly as he awakened and allowed himself to lie there, drinking in the sight of John, still asleep and draped across him. Sherlock gently ran his fingers through John’s sandy hair and lightly massaged his scalp. John breathed deeply and sleepily pressed his head back further into Sherlock’s hand, seeking more contact.

“M’ning,” John murmured, his face still mostly pressed into Sherlock’s pyjama clad chest.

“Merry Christmas, John,” Sherlock said softly, still not quite believing that John was still here, in his bed, in his _life_ after all this time.

John moved up the bed so that he was sitting next to Sherlock and reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers.

“Merry Christmas to you too Sherlock. I love you,” John pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s warm lips and then climbed out of bed before hastily pulling on his dressing gown.

“Let’s go get a cuppa and then we can open our presents in the lounge.”

Sherlock followed John downstairs, grabbing his robe from the corner of his bedroom where it had hastily been thrown a couple of nights ago in a mad, passionate rush to get naked in the least amount of time possible.

John moved around efficiently in the kitchen as Sherlock lit a fire in the fireplace in the lounge. They had not used the fireplace until recently; Sherlock had no knowledge of chimneys or fireplaces (“It’s been deleted, John”) and so John had paid for the chimney to be cleaned and the fireplace brought back to working order. He’d painstakingly shown Sherlock how to light a fire and how to make sure it would stay lit, and for the meantime Sherlock had not deleted that information.

John returned to the lounge with two cups of tea and smiled as he saw Sherlock tending to the fire.

“You want to open presents now? I thought maybe we could go for a walk along the southbank later.”

Sherlock nodded in agreement and curled up on the sofa next to John. He looked quite tense, John thought, and was not talking as much as he usually would. He’d not even grumbled at the half eaten mince pie John had jokingly put next to the skull.

John retrieved his present for Sherlock from underneath the tree. He had decided that Sherlock would no doubt deduce his gift no matter where John tried to hide it, so instead he opted for simply wrapping it and placing it under the tree. Maybe this had had some kind of reverse psychology effect as he had not seen Sherlock pick it up or try to observe it once. John handed his present to Sherlock, eyes twinkling.

“Here you go, love.”

Sherlock took the present with almost trembling hands and unwrapped it with a reverent look on his face. John had bought Sherlock an antique magnifying glass with an ornate silver handle. It had been expensive, but John had decided that it was worth the money and no-one would appreciate it more than Sherlock.

Sherlock held the magnifying glass in his hands, turning it over and tracing his fingers across the pattern on the handle. He looked up at John with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Thank you John, I- I don’t know what to say.”

John laughed, “that’s a first! But you like it, right? Took me ages to find.”

Sherlock blinked a few times and cleared his throat.

“It’s perfect. Thank you. I could not have wished for anything better.”

John grinned and moved across the sofa towards Sherlock, hugging him tightly.

“Okay, where’s mine?”

Sherlock tensed up again and slowly reached into the pocket of his pyjama bottoms where he had hidden John’s present before coming downstairs.

“I must confess that I am nervous about your present. I hope it is the right time to present you with this.”

John saw that Sherlock was clutching a ring box and his heart skipped a beat. Sherlock turned to face John on the sofa, took a deep breath and opened the box. Inside was a simple white gold band, nothing more, nothing less. John was finding it hard to breathe and Sherlock’s fingers trembled slightly as he presented the ring to John.

“John, we have known each other for a relatively short amount of time, however I believe that my feelings for you cannot be justified or categorised according to an arbitrary length of time. I did not want to wait any longer to propose to you; I cannot express the depth of my love for you and I would be absolutely delighted if you would do me the honour of becoming my husband.”

John tore his gaze from the ring and looked back up at Sherlock, his mouth gaping.

“I- Wh- is this real? Oh, god, yes I would love to become your husband,” John whispered. Sherlock gently took hold of John’s right hand and slid the ring onto his ring finger.

“When proposing to a man, it is customary for the engagement ring to be worn on the right hand, and transferred to the left after the wedding ceremony.”

John sat in silence for a full two minutes staring at the ring on his finger. He was engaged. To Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock wanted to become John’s _husband_. Sherlock loved John more than he could express. John did not know how he could possibly process all of this information, so he simply pulled Sherlock in for a slow, luxurious kiss. When they parted, John looked deep into Sherlock’s eyes.

“I love you so much. I never knew how much I needed you until I met you. I can’t imagine being engaged to anyone else, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

John grinned at Sherlock, stroking his hand, until-

“Oh, godammit, that means Mycroft is going to become my brother in law.”

Sherlock bit his lip and stared at John with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Oh, he’s not all bad. I rather think he’ll come in useful when I need to get my name changed to Sherlock Holmes-Watson.”

“You really would do that? For me?”

Sherlock climbed onto John’s lap and straddled his hips.

“I would do _anything_ for you.” Sherlock started to nuzzle against John’s neck and threaded his fingers through John’s hair.

“Can you do something for me now?” John asked, breathlessly.

“Of course,” Sherlock whispered seductively into John’s ear.

“Can we go back to bed and continue this there?”

Sherlock scrambled off of John’s lap and pulled John to his feet.

“Yes! I wonder if engaged sex is different to boyfriend sex.” Sherlock started to pull John towards his bedroom and John giggled. He didn’t know exactly what the rest of his life would look like, but he knew he’d always have Sherlock. Nothing else mattered.

 


End file.
